


Endless Sand

by SpicedGold



Series: The Nara Family [19]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Desert, Deserts are beautiful, Gen, Shikadai/Shinki friendship, Shikamaru is secretly a romantic, suna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: The desert has nothing to offer, and Shikadai really wants to stay home. He cannot see what keeps bringing his mother back, and he definitely can’t see why his father keeps agreeing to go with her.
Relationships: Nara Shikadai & Temari, Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Series: The Nara Family [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1160966
Comments: 29
Kudos: 273





	Endless Sand

“Can’t I stay home on my own?” There was a touch of a whine in Shikadai’s voice.

“No,” Temari shot him a sideways look that he usually wouldn’t have the courage to challenge.

“But it’s the holidays. I want to spend it with my friends.” He slumped in his seat at the kitchen table. “Chocho was away last year, and now you’re going to drag me away this year? It’s not fair. Holidays are for friends.”

“The holidays are for spending time with your family,” Temari said sharply.

“We are a family, right here, in Konoha,” Shikadai sighed. He tipped his head, eying Shikamaru. “Dad? I could stay with Inojin. Do I have to go to Suna?”

“Don’t get me involved,” Shikamaru murmured, looking firmly into his coffee.

“There’s nothing to do in Suna,” Shikadai whined. He sank lower in his seat. “It’s boring, and hot, and there’s no one to talk to.”

“Shinki is there,” Temari said, in a voice that wasn’t leaving room for argument. “You like talking to Shinki.”

“He has no hobbies. There is nothing for us to do together there.”

“It’s not up for debate, Shikadai,” Temari said tersely. “We are spending the holidays in Suna. So put up, and shut up.”

“Could’ve stayed with Inojin,” Shikadai grumbled under his breath. He stared at the table, a twist of annoyance rising in his chest.

What was he supposed to do in Suna for two weeks?

“Where is that rulebook?” Shinki asked flatly.

Shikadai sent him an unimpressed look from across the Shogi board. “You don’t need the rule book. It was a perfectly legal move. I don’t cheat.”

“And I don’t lose,” Shinki replied. “Where is the rule book?”

“You might not lose to anyone in Suna,” Shikadai reached an arm out to start resetting the board. “But I am a certified genius, and you can’t beat me in a strategy game.”

“My experiences with Leaf shinobi indicate that they cheat.”

“That was only Boruto, and don’t lump me in with everyone,” Shikadai sat back with a huff. “Fine. No more Shogi. Geez, you’re a sore loser.”

“Maybe you’re a bad teacher,” Shinki replied.

“So, what else are we supposed to do?” Shikadai threw a glance at the window. The sky outside was an endless pale blue, as it was all the time, and always had been anytime Shikadai had been in Suna.

“I spend a lot of time training,” Shinki claimed.

“I know. You need more hobbies.” Shikadai heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to die of boredom.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Shinki murmured, packing the Shogi board away neatly.

Shikadai wasn’t opposed to spending time with Shinki – they both quite enjoyed the other’s company – but there was nothing to do in Suna, and Shinki wasn’t content with just lying around and talking like Chocho and Inojin were.

Shinki always wanted to be focused on something.

“Isn’t there anything interesting around here?” Shikadai asked, scratching the back of his head purely for something to do. “Anywhere cool to eat? We could go for ice-cream again. Or maybe cool places to explore?”

“We could explore the old training grounds, although I fail to see how that would further our skills as shinobi.”

“Not everything is about ‘furthering our skills’,” Shikadai grumbled. He flopped onto his back, arms thrown out at random, and huffed at the ceiling. This was going to be a long, tedious holiday. Part of him considered hopping on a train back to Konoha, except he was terrified of what would happen when Temari caught up to him. Dying wasn’t high on his holiday to-do list.

He raised an eyebrow at Shinki. “Do you play chess?”

“I do. I have beaten Kankuro at it before.”

“Because he sucks at it. Wanna play a game or two?”

“The chess board is not here,” Shinki said. “Perhaps we could have a sparring match?”

“Or,” Shikadai heaved himself to his feet. “We find the chess board, because it’s too hot to even think about fighting.”

Shinki shrugged. “This evening, then, for sparring.”

“Whatever. Now, where is the chess board?”

“Give me the rulebook. You cheated.”

“I have never cheated in chess,” Shikamaru cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re never going to beat me at it.”

Across the board, Kankuro looked unimpressed with life. “Look, you’re sneaky. I’ll bet you tried some sort of weird strategy that doesn’t actually count.”

“Every move I saw was perfectly legal,” Gaara murmured softly, at the head of the kitchen table and looking over some papers.

“No one asked you,” Kankuro retorted. He slumped back in his seat. “I’ll rematch you tonight and kick your ass.”

“Good luck with that,” Shikamaru said, gathering the chess pieces to pack them away. He glanced to the side as Shikadai and Shinki entered. “Hey, boys, what’re you up to?”

“Dying of boredom,” Shikadai announced. “Where is Mom?”

“Out, somewhere,” Shikamaru shrugged.

“She dragged us all the way here to ‘spend time with the family’, and she isn’t even here,” Shikadai grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“We’re still here, kid,” Kankuro stood up, capturing Shikadai with one arm to squeeze him in a sideways half-hug.

“Hm,” Shikadai grunted, extracting himself from Kankuro. “I could have stayed with Inojin, you know.”

“Don’t you like visiting us?” Gaara asked, looking up, and Shikadai felt his indignation shrivel up and die inside him, because there was no feasible way to ever be grumpy at Gaara.

“Of course I do,” Shikadai said, ignoring the way Shinki raised one judgmental eyebrow. Gaara was annoying, with that way he always made Shikadai feel guilty for not spending every free second he had with his uncle. No wonder he was Kazekage; no one could say ‘no’ to that face.

Shikamaru stood up. “Not enough that you’ll quit whining about it constantly, though.”

“You whine about it, too,” Shikadai muttered under his breath. He and Inojin had had plans. And there was so much for Shikadai and Boruto to do at home. And he had been going to train with Mirai, and now he was missing everything, just because his father couldn’t say no to his mother.

“Come with me,” Shikamaru said.

“Why?”

“Just do it.” There was something in his tone that made Shikadai obey without further question.

Wordlessly, Shikamaru led him from the house, out into the sunny desert, and Shikadai frowned, staying close to his father’s side. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Shikadai rolled his eyes.

They left the village, onto the big sand dunes outside, and within minutes Shikadai had to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“Okay, Dad, I’m all for mysteries, but it’s hot, and-“

“Look.” Shikamaru stopped, eyes on a dune that stood a bit higher than the one they were on.

Temari stood on top of it, elbow propped up on her fan, gazing at the endless open sands before them.

“See that?” Shikamaru asked, pointing at Temari.

Shikadai almost rolled his eyes again. “Yes, I can see her. What’s your point?”

“That’s my point,” Shikamaru said. He took a moment, just watching her against the sky. In a heavier tone than Shikadai usually heard from his father, he added, “Has she ever looked at you like that?”

“Like -” Shikadai was going to add ‘what'.

Then he found he didn’t need to. He could see it. There was a longing to Temari's expression, a yearning for something more. A softer sense of something powerful and loving. So, so much expression just in her eyes as she gazed out at the desert. No, he thought. She had never looked at him like that.

“You don’t realise it,” Shikamaru said in a low voice. “But she gave up a lot to be with me, and I’m not worth it. Look at the way she looks at that desert. That’s her first love. That’s her true love.”

Shikamaru took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before saying, seemingly from nowhere, “There aren’t a lot of things in the world that scare me.”

Shikadai looked at his father, wondering where this conversation was going.

“I’m scared of losing you, obviously. And my friends and family. But here’s the thing – if I do lose you, you’re gone forever. That’s the only way I could lose you. But the part that hurts, the part that truly frightens me, is if I lose Temari . . . it’ll be back to the desert. She’ll still have a life without me. She’ll still love without me. And instead of knowing she’s gone forever and nothing can change that, and nothing can bring her back, I’ll be alone knowing I lost her and she’s back here, in the wind where she belongs.” Shikamaru swallowed. “I can handle a world that she’s not in, but I can’t handle one where she’s in it and no longer with me.”

Shikadai stared at his mother again, feeling like now was a good time to stay quiet.

“If she wants to come out here, and feel the wind, and spend hours on the sand, I’m not gonna say no. Because this is her world. This is where she was born, and this is where she learned who she was. Sometimes she needs to come back. Just for a while. And if she wants us here with her, we’re going to do what she says, because I need her to be happy.”

Shikamaru looked at Shikadai, and Shikadai hesitantly met his gaze.

“She wants to share this part of her world with you. This is half of who you are. So if all it takes to make her happy is spending a few weeks here, then you can quit whining about it and do it.”

Shikadai nodded, staring at his feet.

“Bringing her back here whenever she wants is the price we pay for taking her away from the desert. I don’t understand it like she does,” Shikamaru shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t get why she loves it. I don’t see it the way she does. But I can see her, and that’s all I need to understand.”

Shikadai wasn’t sure he understood, either, but he was starting to. Because he never saw Temari look out at Konoha’s forests the way she looked at the desert. She didn’t have that same longing look, that gaze that travelled beyond the dunes and into an endless sandy void that no one could see.

She didn’t stand on Konoha’s grass the way she stood on Suna’s sand – grounded and yet still free.

“She wants you to learn this life, and love it the way she does. That’s all.”

Suitably chastised, Shikadai nodded silently.

“I know you think there’s nothing here but sand and heat, but,” Shikamaru’s voice turned slightly wistful. He sighed. “But beautiful things are found in the desert, if you look hard enough.”

The sun was beginning to set, and Suna was bathed in golden light.

Shikadai waited at the door, observing the pensive look on Temari’s face as she stood on the balcony, leaned against the railing, and studied the village spread out below her. There was always a lot of activity at sunset. The streets bustled, there was shouting and laughter to be heard, and Shikadai had never noticed before that golden sunlight clung to Temari’s hair. He knew his father always mentioned it, but it wasn’t something he saw in Konoha.

“Hey, Mom?” Shikadai asked hesitantly.

Temari glanced at him. “Yeah?”

“Can you,” he rested his elbows on the balcony railing, staring quizzically out at the village. “Um, teach me how to survive in the desert?”

Temari cocked her head at him a little, eying him.

“It’s different from home,” Shikadai said, with a nonchalant shrug. “I want to learn how it works.”

“You sure? Wouldn’t it be a drag?” she teased, but there was a sharpness to her tone that made Shikadai flinch.

“Yeah, okay, I’m a jerk,” he grumbled. “I didn’t get the desert before. Didn’t like it.” He let out a loud breath. “But it might be cool to learn. And it’s my home, too. I’m guessing there’s more to it than empty sand.”

“A lot more,” Temari murmured, watching the setting sun. “There’s a lot here, if you learn to see it. Too much to learn in just a few weeks.”

Shikadai shifted a bit closer.

“Well,” he said. “I guess . . . Whenever you come back again, I could come with? If you want me to.” He chanced a glance at her, to find her already looking at him. It was an odd look, a mixture between gentle affection and her default scolding.

“I guess I can drag you along,” she said, reaching a hand out to tug at his ear.

Shikadai ducked away with a grumble, but was unable to avoid her next assault of grabbing him and squeezing him close. She felt like sunshine, and he gave up trying to squirm free, somewhat begrudgingly allowing himself to be held.

Squished to Temari’s side, Shikadai resigned himself to her hug, and found his gaze drawn to the distant dunes as the sun vanished behind them. The sky lit up in reds and oranges, deep royal blue far above them as the stars just started to peep out.

Suna had better sunsets than Konoha.

“You _have_ to be cheating.”

“I don’t cheat!” Shikamaru huffed. “Why would I cheat in a chess game?”

“I don’t know,” Kankuro waved a hand around. “Maybe you like it.”

He sat back from the coffee table, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna beat you one of these days, Nara.”

“Doubt it,” Shikamaru shrugged.

Shikadai chuckled from his spot on the floor, where he was sitting opposite Shinki and learning various series’ of seals for new techniques that Shinki had promised to show him in the morning. Gaara had been watching them from the couch, adding in helpful advice here and there, and trying not to smile too broadly at Kankuro’s numerous declarations of despair the further his chess match had progressed.

“You can’t beat Shikamaru at a strategy game,” Temari claimed, entering the lounge.

She sat down next to Gaara. “Shikadai, if you want, we can spend a few days in the desert. You might as well learn a few survival skills.”

“Oh.” Shikadai lifted his head. “Yeah, sure.”

“Wanna come?” Temari looked at Shinki.

He nodded. “Yes, please.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said quietly, “There’s an abandoned ruin of some sort a few days away. We could explore that.”

“Think there’s treasure inside?” Shikadai asked, looking to Gaara for possible confirmation.

Gaara shook his head. “Unlikely, but feel free to check.”

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever found in the desert?” Shikadai asked, and Gaara answered promptly.

“Shinki.”

Shinki looked faintly pleased at that, sitting up a bit straighter, while Kankuro snorted.

“No jewels or anything?” Shikadai asked, turning his head to Kankuro as well.

“Nah.” Kankuro casually threw a chess piece at Shikamaru, who did not duck in time and got smacked in the face with a bishop. “No one’s ever found any priceless treasures in the desert.”

Shikadai shrugged, disappointed.

Shikamaru rubbed his cheek, looking down and slightly sideways at Temari. “I did.”


End file.
